


Do you love me?

by Frankieteardrop



Series: Songfics from my iTunes. [3]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankieteardrop/pseuds/Frankieteardrop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1y5o2aFEco"> “Do You Love Me?” – Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds</a><br/><i>Still I seemed so obsolete and small</i><br/><i>I found God and all His devils inside her</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you love me?

Richard isn’t entirely sure when or how he fell in love with Till.

You know what it’s like; when you go through the stages of falling in love with another human being and you just can’t help yourself. It happens slowly, and then all at once. It ebbs gently at the bottom of your heart and then all of a sudden you’re drowning in this emotion you’re not wholly sure how to deal with. And it seems that you can have been in love before, but when it happens again, it’s an entirely forgotten experience, and you can’t remember how you dragged yourself through it the first time around. That feeling of unrequited love; that terrible feeling of loving and not being loved in return, not receiving the love you think you deserve. My God, that’s one feeling that no one should ever feel. But it happens. It feels like your heart has been torn from your body and fed to a pack of wild dogs. It feels like someone has pushed a knife, slowly and terribly, into your chest they’re twisting it. It feels like you’ve run into a brick wall repeatedly and you just can’t stop yourself. And while Richard has experienced this before, he’s lucky that this isn’t the case.

And the way you see the person you fall for changes entirely. You start to _notice_ them. You notice the little things about them that make them stand out from everyone else. You notice _everything_ about them; the way they gently push their fingers through their hair to get that long fringe out of their eyes, and the way those strands always fall back into their place across their forehead; the way they look when they’ve just woken up, and the many phases their face goes through in a day, from sleepy head to alert and awake in a few hours; the way their breathing changes when they experience different emotions. You notice the way they stare blankly out at the crowd when they stand centre stage, waiting for their cue. You notice the way their hands feel against your skin and it always feels exactly the same but always feels like a new experience every single time. You notice how their kisses feel against your throat as they coax you into bed with them. You notice how they love you in return. It becomes an obsession; becoming obsessed with that person. You want to spend every single second of the day in that person’s presence and you want to be noticed by them. You want them to look at you the way you look at them. 

There’s something about being in love with someone that changes you as a human being that Richard is experiencing at this moment in time. He is all too aware of the way he watches Till at any given opportunity. He watches the way he moves, begging for the day when they decide to put _Heirate Mich_ back into their set list so that he can watch that beautiful being crawl towards him and cuddle in close to his hip, thankful for any contact the singer graces him with. He watches longingly as the other moves around on stage, how his manner changes from aggressive punk to heartfelt sweetpea in a matter of seconds. He loves watching the way Till interacts with other people; that shyness that drew Richard in initially, and how that shyness disappears completely when he puts on the façade of “Till Lindemann: Rammstein Front Man”. But he secretly loves it when that façade drops after a concert and he returns to “Till Lindemann; Awkward and Shy”. 

So here he sits. He’s at an after party from their show and he’s watching the singer interact awkwardly with a group of strangers that are praising him for his techniques and his lyrics and everything about him. And Richard can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in his stomach, the green mist descending as he watches Till’s attention focus on these strangers and not on himself. 

Yes. Richard is in love with Till and he isn’t quite sure how that happened.

He would happily do anything for that man. What those strangers don’t know is that Till and Richard have been secretly seeing one another, spending nights alone in hotel rooms, wrapped in one another. So Richard gets up and puts down his bottle of beer. He needs to be brave. There have been no grand romantic gestures between the two, and there have been no other persons involved in their relationship. It’s all just between the two of them.

As he walks towards his love, he watches as Till’s eyes move from the young woman he’s speaking to, and grace contact with Richard’s. He feels a shiver claw its way through his body, and he makes his way towards the singer. He can hear what they’re discussing and he knows this is one of Till’s least favourite subjects of discussion. He gently places a hand atop Till’s shoulder, drawing his attention, feeling the other’s muscles tense slightly and relax beneath his fingers. 

“You’re wanted outside for a second…” Richard says softly, nodding to those Till had been speaking to. “Only for a moment…”

“Right! Thank you!” Till says softly, bidding farewell to those he’d been speaking to and followed Richard without another word. 

You see they have this code; they rescue one another from terrible social situations and then they disappear back to the hotel for the night; do your bandly duties and leave as soon as it’s no longer rude to. As they get outside, Till pushes Richard into the shadows and presses his lips to Richard’s, gently guiding him against a wall. Richard moves his hands up under Till’s t-shirt, gently running his fingers over the warm skin above his belt, pulling the other closer to him, fingers searching their way into Till’s hair. He always liked the way the singer kissed; soft but urgent, rough but loving, all manner of contradictions. Till slowly breaks their kiss, gently brushing his fingers through Richard’s hair, pushing it away from his face. “Thank you.” Are his words, as the right corner of his mouth curls up into a smile.

“What?”

“Nothing. Come on, let’s go back to the hotel…” Till says, and laces his fingers with Richard’s. 

When they reach the hotel, they silently walk to the elevator together and head up to their floor, holding hands and saying nothing to one another. Richard realises in this moment that he doesn’t require grand romantic gestures from the singer; it’s in these small contacts of hand holding and stolen kisses that he knows his feelings are reciprocated. Richard loves how shy Till appears, how that coy smile of his draws him in and traps him, hiding that raw animal magnetism that Till possesses. Richard looks up at Till and watches him for a moment, revelling in the knowledge that Till hasn’t noticed him looking. His eyes travel over the other’s profile, noting the way his lips purse almost into a pout naturally (and my God does he love those lips) and the way those heavy lashed lids create waves as they blink, covering those eyes; they have so much depth to them, so much emotion shown just in those glassy green eyes. And they change colour, Richard has noticed, depending on his mood, they can be dark with lust or bright with happiness or deep with the weight of varying sorrows. 

Till looks over at Richard and smiles shyly, taking his hand from the other’s. “What’re you looking at?” he laughs softly, gently pushing at the other’s arm. 

“You.” Richard laughs softly, leaning into the other, pressing a gentle kiss to the other’s jaw. They reach their floor and step out, walking quickly to their room, quick with anticipation. They made their way into the bedroom, door kicked closed behind them as they set to stripping each other of every item of clothing they wore. As Till’s lips locked with Richard’s, he slowly guides the younger man back towards the bed, gently settling him down. Richard watches as Till crawls atop of him, kisses trailing up his chest, his collar, his throat, his jaw, settling on his lips, kissing him deeply and passionately, as if he’s taking bites of out Richard’s soul.

Obsession is a strange thing, Richard knows this. He wanted to be wholly possessed by this man. He wanted Till to know that he has given his whole self over to him. His mind, body and soul lay in the palm of Till’s hand and Richard needed Till to understand that. And while they rarely said those words to each other, Richard gave his love to Till in his actions. He watches the other man, watching his broad shoulders as he hunches over his bag to search for things, watching the way he stalked around the room getting the essential things, watching the way his muscles move under the skin as he crawls back up the bed, how his head hangs low between his shoulders as he brushes butterfly kisses up Richard’s stomach towards his lips to kiss him once more. He watches as Till slicks his fingers with Aquaglide and slowly, carefully, sunk his fingers into Richard. Richard writhes under him, But Till doesn’t attempt to go faster or make things happen quicker, and continues preparing the other man until he is nothing more than a moaning mass of jelly. Till wants his lover relaxed and pliant, and that was something Richard loved about him; he was patient and kind, deep down. Till never rushed and had been the first lover Richard had encountered who hadn’t hurt him. Till always took his time, and moved his fingers carefully into all the right places. 

When he withdrew, only for a moment, Richard felt a little cold, but he could feel the heat radiating from Till, washing over him as his lover pushes forward, entering him, but holding him close. Till always started this way, but it always felt different. He always started slow and close, groaning against the crook of Richard’s neck, burying his face in that sweet spot, his hair tickling against Richard’s throat and shoulder, but his arms held him close, enveloping him in a tight embrace as they moved together. This gave Richard the opportunity to lace his legs around Till’s hips, locking him in, pulling him deeper, forcing a low and animalistic groan from the older man. And while Till always followed the same pattern, and it felt different every time, he always moved away after a while; one hand holding him up, the other moving to the base of Richard’s spine, pulling his hips up and closer, and his movements became faster, harder. And this sent shivers through Richard, light moans escaping his throat and his lover’s name falling from his lips. And eventually, when Richard felt ready, he’d wrap his fingers around himself and move, bringing himself to orgasm with the help of Till’s strategic thrusts. As he spills, hot pools of liquid contacting with his skin, he feels every muscle in his body tense and release, the fingers of his free hand digging into the top of Till’s arm. And as the tension in his body feeds into Till, this pushes the older man over the edge, and Till comes, thrusting erratically, lurching against Richard. 

It always ends the same. Till always collapses atop of Richard in a panting and sweaty heap, arms wrapping tightly around him as he shivers from the post-orgasm come down. All Richard can do is gently trace small patterns onto Till’s skin, holding him, letting his hands wander of their own accord, mapping out all that is his to touch. Then Till rolls over onto his side, pulling the younger man with him. And they lie there together in silence, holding one another in a tight squeeze. There’s nothing Richard loves more than being held by Till. He is by no means a feminine person in any respect, but he enjoys this feeling immensely; feeling small and vulnerable in the arms of his lover, knowing that he is safe. Till makes him feel safe and secure, warm and wanted.

“Do you love me?” Richard broke the silence between them, whispering those words against the other’s chest.

“I do, my dear, I do.” Till answered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Richard’s head, pulling him closer to his body. 

“Good.” 

Richard isn’t entirely sure when he fell in love with Till, but he’s glad that he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Only loosely based on this song because, like most Nick Cave songs, this isn't very nice towards the end. 
> 
> Though I really love Murder Ballads when I was doing my degree because we were doing romanticism and Lyrical Ballads and I wanted to study Nick Cave because I'm clearly a massive weirdo.
> 
> I just followed a whole heap of Rammstein related blogs on tumblr so my obsession has literally gone overboard now and I'm starting to doubt my own sanity. Maybe myself and Richard in this fic have that in common?


End file.
